


Cheap Whiskey from the Corner Shop

by fickle_fics



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M, grey white
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:37:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3795247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickle_fics/pseuds/fickle_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost midnight on a Saturday night Malcolm Tucker's work is interrupted by Grey White, former intern at DoSAC and one of the few people Malcolm can bear on his doorstep after a year. As if that wasn't odd enough she's there to admit how much she wants to sleep with him, and always has. From there his plans to work all weekend are seriously disrupted by the semi-naked women in his flat, and he would say something of course, but it isn't often he gets women who actually know what's like at work throwing themselves at him</p><p>AKA not exactly how it all began, but when IT became interesting</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheap Whiskey from the Corner Shop

**Author's Note:**

> Written for smallfandombang. The plan is for a heavily rewritten version of this to be part of my increasingly lengthy TTOI AU which includes Grey. This however can, hopefully, stand alone.
> 
> And now with added incredibly amazing and spot on fanmix!

Grey was in a pub in the middle of Camden with a couple of old uni friends when the sudden urge to see Malcolm flared up out of nowhere. She wanted to put it down to the vodka or being surrounded by the type of men she’d have been offering to buy drinks for by now normally. Only she wasn’t interested. She hadn’t been interested in anyone since she’d left DoSAC. She’d tried. She really had. She’d met guys in clubs and talked to them, some of them were interesting enough, pretty too, but her mind always seemed to wander. She’d realise she’d just stopped listening and was thinking about the way Malcolm used to storm into the office shouting obscenities, or how he looked reclined in his chair late at night in his office and she’d realise she was wasting her time. She didn’t _want_ anyone else, hadn’t since she’d realised how incredibly impressive Malcolm was. Why was she even bothering?

“I need to be somewhere,” she said, gulping down her drink, sounding slightly confused.

Her two friends looked at each other.

“Nightclub full of pissed up pretty boys?”

If only.

“Actually there’s someone I really need to see. Sorry,” she stood up and frowned as they looked at her like she’d lost her mind, which was probably a fair assessment of the situation..

“It’s 11 o’clock, you can’t just go and see someone at this time of night, what are you on?”

“No, no it’s fine. He’ll be up.” 11 was early for Malcolm, she knew that from experience. He might not even be back from Downing Street yet. God she might just end up waiting on his doorstep, which was far too pathetic for her to even think about.

“ _He_?”

Grey winced. “Look I’m really sorry, I’m an utterly fucking shit mate, but…” she shook her head. “You can take the piss tomorrow, yeah? Mercilessly and for the rest of my life. See you later.” She paused and pulled a fiver out of her pocket, handing it over. “to cover my part of the taxi.”

“Like you’re not gonna end up in Proud?” one pointed out.

“If it goes tits up I’ll just go home,” she shrugged, turning to leave. Or maybe they were right. Maybe she’d need something to distract her if Malcolm told her to fuck off, which was always possible, especially if he was busy.

 

Realising it was too late now, that she was here, Grey knocked on Malcolm’s door and waited, clutching the bottle of whiskey she’d brought on the way through the carrier bag like it was a safety blanket.

A slightly dishevelled Malcolm opened the door, the top two buttons of his pale blue shirt undone, the shirt itself untucked. It was only then that Grey realised he wouldn’t necessarily be alone. Why would he be? Had she really thought she was the only woman in the world that could possibly fancy him? He was good looking, he could even be charming sometimes. The thing was she liked him when he wasn’t being charming, when he was a whirlwind of anger and creatively used expletives. It was Malcolm fucking Tucker she liked - the man that had ministers cowering in fear.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” she said.

Malcolm blinked at her as if he wasn’t sure if she was real or not. It must have been almost a year since he’d seen her in person, and now here she was on his doorstep at almost midnight on a Saturday night? That was pretty fucking weird even for her.

“Hmmm?” he said, remembering he’d still got them on. “Oh, oh yeah.”

He looked impossibly sexy slightly bleary eyed. The glasses really suited him, it was a shame he hadn’t worn them when she’d been working for him at Downing Street, though probably for the best all things considered. She’d already had way too many fantasies about him while they’d been working together.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked, practically holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

“No, no. Not really,” he replied, frowning at her. “Grey, not that it’s not lovely to see you or anything but…what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was just passing?” she offered.

“Grey.”

“Can I come in?” She shoved the bottle in her hands at him. “I brought you a present.”

Shaking his head Malcolm took the bottle and turned around sure she’d follow him.

Closing the door behind her Grey stood there, all the alcohol and confidence fading away now she was actually here, in his flat. What the fuck was she going to say? How did she think this was going to go? Because she realised now it wasn’t going to go how it did in her fantasies. She was going to have to explain things, talk to him. That wasn’t really her forte. There was a reason she mostly picked up pretty boys in clubs.

“Let me guess. You lost your wallet and knew I’d be awake so came to borrow some cash for an Oyster card? He suggested. “Anyway come in. I was just working.”

She followed him into the small living room, noting the piles of paper on the coffee table by his laptop.

“I am interrupting, aren’t I?”

“It’s fine. Fuck it! Since you’re here maybe you could give me a hand? I’ll even pay for a taxi. What do you say?”

“Yeah sure. What do you need me to do?”

“Check through that pile. They’re from the 8.30s. Look for any reference to pathfinders.”

“Pathfinders?”

“Nicola fucking Murray, don’t ask. Just highlight them,” he said, handing over a bright pink highlighter pen.

Grey had already gone through ten pages, sitting there in silence with him before she remembered this wasn’t why she was here at all.

“Is this urgent?” she asked.

“Sorry, darling. You probably want to get home, don’t you? Course you do. Give me two minutes and I’ll call you a cab.”

“Malc, I didn’t come over because I lost my fucking Oyster card. How useless do you think I am?”

“Do you really want me to answer that one?“ he asked, glancing up at her over his glasses. “But again - why the fuck did you?”

Grey was glad of the paperwork in front of her, it meant she could focus on that rather than looking at him. “I had this sudden urge to see you.”

Malcolm scoffed. “No need to take the piss.”

“Malcolm.” Frowning she reached across him for the whiskey she’d brought. “You don’t mind do you?” she asked, already opening it.

“I thought you were leaving.”

“Well you thought wrong,” she said. taking a drink straight from the bottle.

He couldn’t help but smile at that. There was something about Grey he just liked, and had done since she’d shown up for her interview all eager and angry and passionate. She’d never be any good in front of the public, but as someone behind the scenes she’d have worked perfectly.

“I missed you,” she admitted, watching him. “I really, really fucking missed you.” The second the words were out she looked back down at the paperwork. This had been a truly terrible idea. Vodka had a lot to answer for.

“Has Ollie put you up to this? Sam?”

“Yeah that’s it. Sam asked me to turn up on your doorstep at midnight and tell you I missed you, just to fuck with you, Fuck’s sake, Malc…I came because I was in Camden with my mates and I got a bit drunk and a bit fucking thinky and…I wanted to see you again.”

“Need a job reference?”

She wondered if he was making this more difficult for her on purpose. “You’re trying to annoy me, right?”

“Not particularly, but you know me, I don’t generally have to try to do that to most people.”

“Most people, but you know I’ve always thought you were pretty fucking great.”

“Yeah, I always wondered what the fuck was wrong with you.”

“Ah well, this probably isn’t going to ease your mind much.”

“What isn’t?”

“Malc…” she trailed off and parted her legs, pressing one against his like an awkward teenager.

He looked down at them, the tight black denim of her jeans against the grey of his suit trousers then back up to her face.

“How drunk are you?”

“Not as drunk as I thought I was.” She took another swig of whiskey and Malc laughed.

“Enjoying my present there, darling?”

“Yes thanks.”

“So…”

She didn’t reply. Not with words at least. Instead she pressed her lips against his and he could taste the hint of whiskey on her lips, soft and tentative. It wasn’t like last time. She really didn’t seem that drunk, and she wasn’t at DaSAC anymore. There were any number of other reasons why this was probably a bad idea. Still he couldn’t quite stop himself from pressing his lips a little more against hers.

He wasn’t pulling away, which was a huge relief because the second she’d taken that leap towards kissing him she’d known he might have. Again. When he didn’t though Grey sighed contently against his lips one hand moving to the side of his neck as she deepened it, lips opening as his did the same, her tongue tracing over his top lip before she pulled away, looking slightly dazed.

“Fuck,” she murmured.

“You can say that again.” He reached to take the bottle from her, taking a long drink himself. “Well this is a turn up for the books,” he said, looking at her. “I had no fucking idea.”

“I wanted to say something, when we were working together. When you emailed me far too late at night. I’d never have put you in that position though,” she said, looking up at him “Or me for that matter,” she admitted, reaching for the cheap whiskey she’d brought again because it was better than nothing and she wasn’t about to ask him if he had any other alcohol, she’d just shown up on his doorstep out of nowhere, she didn’t have that right, and really any alcohol was better than none. That was practically her moto.

“Come again.”

“You’d’ve turned me down. I know you, Malcolm. You and your fucking _morals_. So I ignored it. I wasn‘t about to force myself on you.”

There were a few moments of silence, Malcolm trying to decide whether to say what was on his mind or not and then he did, because he couldn’t help himself. “Apart from the Christmas party.” 

He’d thought about that night too many times, trying to work out if it had been purely because she was drunk, if she’d have tried it on with anyone that might have been in that taxi with her regardless of who it was, or if it had been more than that, because they’d always had some kind of a connection. The kind of connection he’d only had with Sam, only that definitely wasn’t sexual. There was something more though, something else, something he never let himself think about because that way madness lay.

Grey had very much counted on him never mentioning that, on him being a gentleman, but perhaps she’d asked for it really, because she had forced herself on him and as much as she’d tried to fool herself into thinking she didn’t remember it, she did. It plagued her late at night, another moment of excruciating embarrassment.

“Yeah well that was vodka, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Malcolm looked at her, the disbelief clear on his face.

“What? Anyway you’re expected to make a twat of yourself at the work’s Christmas do, try and shag someone, it’s tradition!” she said, trying not to smile. She knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on. She wasn’t even sure she wanted one. It was sort of the truth, she’d never have done that in a million years had she not been so drunk. Had she been in her right mind she’d have realised how pointless it was. It was never going to happen while they worked together, but that was why she was here now, because she’d never stopped thinking about him and everything was different now and she needed to know what could happen, how he felt in these circumstances. It probably wasn’t even going to happen now, why would it? But she had to know. The what ifs were driving her ever so slightly crazy.

“Don’t give me that, darling.”

“Yeah well…it was still the vodka.” She took another drink, looked across at him. It had been months since she’d seen him and it only made her want him more. Apparently it was true - absence did make the heart grow fonder. “I’d never’ve made a move on you if I hadn’t been that drunk. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to, every single fucking time you came into the office.”

Malcolm leant back against the arm of the sofa regarding her. She was gorgeous, there was no denying that, and she was for real, he had no doubts about that either. He had no idea why but he was sure she was. Why else would she have shown up on his doorstep in the middle of a night out? Plus he was good at reading people, it was a key part of his job, this wasn’t some lie to get what she wanted, to further her career, this was the truth. _Fuck_!

“Whatever you want from me, darling I won’t be able to give it to you,” he sighed, reaching to take the bottle off her again. He didn’t want to reject her but he had to, for her own sake. He couldn’t possibly do this. A relationship. He didn’t have time and she deserved so much more.

“A quick fuck?” she offered, like it was nothing, bringing her knees up on to the sofa, touching them against his.

“ _Grey_ “ His voice was close to a growl and he knew in that second he’d lost whatever moral battle he’d been trying to fight. She deserved better, but if she didn’t want better, well that was up to her, wasn’t it? She was a grown woman, more or less.

“Just a suggestion. Christ I‘m not asking you to marry me or something, I just…” she trailed off. Obviously she’d had a bit too much to drink, she was in serious danger of being honest with him.

“You just what?” 

“I missed you. I was sitting there in the pub with my friends, and it was great but I just…I had this sudden urge to see you again. It’s been great emailing and everything it’s just…it’s not the same.” She’d missed his voice, and his face, and the way he moved his hands when he spoke. It really was ridiculous, but the last year just hadn’t been quite the same without hearing his impressively creative threats being screamed at someone..

“You know I don’t think anyone’s ever missed me before, darling,” he said with a smile, reaching forward and laying his hand on her knee, thumb rubbing over the denim of her jeans. He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he’d turned her down once, he had to get points for trying, right?

Grey looked down at his hand, then back to his face. If he was rejecting her he was doing a pretty confusing job of it. “I just-I really want to take you to bed, Malc. I thought not seeing you’d, y’know. make that thought go away, but it hasn’t.” She moved a little closer so their legs were pressed together again. “It really fucking hasn’t.”

His arm was around her waist, pulling her down onto him before she even noticed him move, and he was kissing her, strong and sure, his tongue in her mouth and his free hand in her hair, leaving her in little doubt that showing up here like this was the best decision she’d made since applying for the internship in the first place.

“Just one thing,” he said, breaking the kiss and looking up at her, her hair messed up by his hand.

“Yeah?” Grey replied uncertainly, shifting against him to get more comfortable, her hands either side of his shoulders so she wouldn’t collapse on top of him.

“You’re not just playing Communications bingo, right?”

Grey stared at him for a second hoping the words would somehow make sense to her with a bit of time.

“Sorry?”

“Communications bingo, you’re not just trying to get a line by sleeping with various members of the party’s Communications team, are you? Christ, you haven’t got Coverly on there have you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Malcolm said only one word but it felt like he’d dropped a block of ice down her back. 

“Jamie.”

Grey moved away from him, trying to work out exactly what to say. How to explain it, though really she didn’t see why she should. She was a grown woman, it was her decision, but she had to admit it was one of the worst ones she’d made.

“Jamie though,” Malcolm said, sitting up. “What were you thinking? You’re lucky you even made it out alive.”

Grey still didn‘t say anything. She should have known that was going to get back to Malcolm. Of course it was, like Jamie was going to keep his foul mouth shut? “He reminded me of someone I fancied. Never underestimate how stupid people, well, _I_ , can be when drunk, horny, and a little bit desperate.”

“Aye? Is that what this is then? Do I remind you of this bloke as well?” He was well aware he and Jamie shared an accent and certain character traits after all.

Grey wanted to laugh. “Seriously?” she asked, stunned by the question. For someone so intelligent Malcolm could be incredibly stupid at times. “Are you shitting me here?”

“What?”

“Do you seriously not get what I’m saying.” Shaking her head she leant in to kiss him deeply again. “No that isn’t what this is,” she assured him. “Idiot.”

 

Grey had thought about this a lot, way more than was even vaguely sane given she hadn‘t seen him for a year. She’d laid in bed late at night with his rants playing in her head and the image of his face and the way he moved his hands playing on a loop in her mind. She’d wondered what he’d be like in bed so many times. Sometimes she was convinced he’d be just like he was in his work life - the completely dominant alpha male, whilst others she couldn’t help but wonder if he might be the exact opposite - wanting to give up all that control he always had, to just let someone else do all the work, to take the control away from him, to just let him stop thinking for a while. She could never decide quite which she’d prefer - she’d never gone for the alpha male type before, it had always been the slightly nervous looking pretty boys, easy to corrupt, easy to push around. She was almost always the one on top. She’d called it feminism, but really it was just that she liked her men submissive, until Malcolm that was. Either way though it didn’t matter, she generally came just as hard whether she was imagining him fucking her roughly over the desk in his office or looking down at him as she fucked him hard and fast in her bed, her nails digging into his shoulders, making him hiss and curse.

But now here she was, in his bedroom. His depressingly empty, impersonal bedroom, which she somehow managed to notice even though her attention should have been completely on him. She felt nervous though, Malcolm could be intimidating, though he’d rarely been that way with her. It was something else though - the worry that this would be a one off, that he’d regret it, that her age would be an issue, or, most unlikely of all, that she’d be a disappointment, but she couldn’t help it. He did strange things to her head. She knew this wasn’t going to be perfect - there was no such thing, but she wanted it to be amazing, she wanted to see him smile. He didn’t do that nearly enough.

“Now you sure you’re not going to regret this, darling?” he asked, as he sat at the foot of the bed, looking up at her standing in front of him, his short dark hair still messy from when her fingers had been curled up in it as they’d kissed.

“I’d be fucking stunned,” she admitted.

“Aye? Cos I wouldn’t. Shouldn’t you be off fucking some interesting pretty boy, one of your protest pals, maybe. Or-or Ollie?”

“Ollie?” The disgust on her face was all the answer he should have needed. Maybe Ollie would’ve been her type if he wasn’t so fucking annoying, and if Malcolm hadn’t wandered into her life and rendered most other men completely uninteresting to her. _Bastard_.

“Just not a man old enough to be your _father_.”

Grey raised an eyebrow at him, slightly confused. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know he was older than her, it just wasn’t something she thought about because while he occupied way too many of her thoughts it was generally the sound of his voice, or the elegance of his gestures, or how he might look when he came, she really didn’t have _time_ to think about his age.

“My dad’s 55, I _think_ , how old are you?” she asked, though she really didn’t care what the answer was, he was the one bringing it up.

“More than twice your age.”

She shrugged, taking a couple of steps closer so her legs were touching his. “I really don’t give a fuck, Malc, but if it’s an issue for you, for fuck’s sake tell me now before this becomes some weird fucking… _thing_ between us and you can’t even look me in the eye because we’ve shagged.” Because that would’ve been the very worse thing, not having him as a friend, that’d be worse than anything else that might happen..

“You’re twenty fucking three,” he sighed, reaching for her hand anyway, threading his fingers with hers. God what could she possibly see in him? He wasn’t good looking, he wasn’t especially nice and he was _old_ , or pretty close to it at least, she must be aware she had better options, surely? She’d been drinking too, that much was obvious. She didn’t seem that drunk though, he’d seen her much drunker on more than one occasion, but he still felt like he had to make absolutely sure she wanted to do this, because he just couldn’t make sense of it.

“What the fuck am I meant to say to that? Sorry? Yeah okay I’m _sorry_! I’m sorry I’m only twenty three, I’m sorry I’m not ten years older so you’d feel better about this, but I don’t really know what I can do to make this better. Tell you I lied at my interview because of ageism or something? _Jesus_!”

Malcolm closed his eyes. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything, but he just couldn’t help himself, he’d needed to point out this wasn’t quite as simple as two people sleeping together. “Say it again.”

“Say what?”

“Say you don’t give a fuck.”

“I _don’t_ , give, a, fuck,” she said slowly, emphasising each word. “It doesn’t matter, it’s never even entered my fucking _head_. You could be twenty or sixty, I’d still fancy you.”

“Nah, you’d’ve hated me when I was twenty, I was a proper mouthy little prick.”

“Unlike now?”

“Yeah, yeah.. Fair point,” he chuckled, a quick yank of her arm bringing her almost falling on top of him. 

His arm was around her instantly, supporting her, stopping her from falling off him and the bed. “I just wanted to make sure,” he said quietly.

“Was my tongue down your throat too subtle?” 

He felt like such an idiot. God she really did fancy him, despite the fact she’d seen the way he treated people, well cretins mostly, but they were still generally regarded as people sadly. She knew what he was like around the people that made his life incredibly difficult but she still liked him. There was clearly something mentally wrong with her, but she hid it well behind a veil of intelligence and wit. “I assumed you were pissed.”

“Well I often am, but there are other men in London if this was just me being drunk and horny. Boring, normal, non-sweary men.” She shook her head as if this was a terrible shame. “I got on the tube, I stopped off for _whiskey_ for you. I know what I’m doing.” 

“Aye, speaking of which it was fucking terrible by the way,” he said, faintly distracted as his gaze followed her hands suddenly working at the buttons of his shirt.

She looked up at him for a moment, taking her attention away from the removal of his clothes. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Well think Glenfiddich next time, yeah?”

She probably should’ve been annoyed, or offended but all she could focus on was the ‘next time’ whether he meant it like that or not. Her brain didn’t work right when she was drunk, she tended to over romanticise things, which really wasn’t her style.

“I’ll start saving up,” she said, returning to her previous task of ridding him of his shirt. With the last button undone she reached up, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it drop to the bed behind him.

Grey leant back to get a better look at him, biting back a smile. “Are you sucking your stomach in?” 

“What? No. Fuck off!” Fuck! She’d noticed that then? He wasn’t entirely sure why he was even bothering, but she was twenty three! And gorgeous and intelligent and he was a slightly out of shape, aggressive, forty odd year old, it was the least he could do to try and suck his gut in.

Slowly she slid her hand down his body, over his stomach. “You gonna keep this up all night?” she asked, stroking against his skin. “I don’t care, you know? You could have fucking boobs bigger than mine and I‘d still want to fuck you, not that that‘d be difficult admittedly but...”

God he loved the way she said that - that she wanted to fuck him, the way she just came out with it. It was refreshing and so sexy he could barely comprehend what was going on. “You’re going to give me an ego, darling.”

“I’ve only just started,” she informed him, managing to stop herself from going too over the top. This was why she shouldn’t be allowed to drink, she tended to say stupid things she was likely to want to deny when she was sober. regardless of how true they were. Kissing him quickly she pulled away just enough to pull off her t-shirt and throw it aside.

Malcolm tried not to stare, but it was really quite difficult considering she was now completely topless. She was sort of glorious - all pale and slim and _smooth_. Reaching out he ran his hand from her stomach to her chest, brushing his thumb over her nipple as he watched her reactions carefully, the way her lips parted and twitched slightly as he touched her. There were probably a hundred things he wanted to say to her, a hundred compliments but he knew Grey, knew how much she hated that kind of thing, so he kept them all to himself as he kissed her again, moving his hands to the fastening of her jeans as she reached down between them and did the same to him.

Her hands fumbled at his flies eagerly. It felt like she’d waited so long for this and now he was here, now she could feel the heat of his skin against her own all she wanted to do was get him naked, fuck him senseless like she’d wanted to for over a year. She raised herself as much as she could as they both pushed at the fabric of their trousers, wanting them out of the way. They’d wasted enough time.

Grey’s heart was already pounding as Malcolm’s hands moved to the waistband of her underwear, pausing just a second to look down at them.

“Boxers?” he questioned, moving his hands away, moving them to the buttons at the fly, undoing them swiftly, and slipping his fingers inside,her pubic hair brushing against them. It was no surprise really, the men’s underwear nor the soft hair between her legs. Not that he’d given it that much thought of course, well never in that much detail at least.

“Not really the lacey type,” she replied, pulling at his own underwear. She could have copied him, could have teased him but she really didn’t have the patience. Before he could even kick his boxers off her hand was around him, stroking him firmly as she leant in, kissing him hungrily as he started to grow and harden in her grip. 

He groaned against her lips, removing his hand from inside her boxers to push them down, not even getting them as far as her knees before she shifted, raising herself slightly, her lips still on his as she let go of him, lowering herself onto him, her hands moving to his shoulders, bracing herself as she began to move slowly at first then picked up speed quickly. She was still kissing him, her tongue still battling with his as she rode him, her hands tightening and gripping his shoulders.

Then finally she stopped, practically tearing her lips away from his as she looked at him, lips parted as they both gasped for air. Her dark eyes were on him through the curtain of hair that had fallen over them and he reached up, pushing it aside as he looked up at her, skin flushed, hair a mess, and god she looked so into this. Into him. And she hadn’t slowed down. She was still fucking him just as fast, speeding up even, fucking him hard and fast and _fuck_ he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex like this, desperate and passionate and he was so aware of the pounding of his heart, of her legs pressing against his as he moved his hands to her muscular thighs, his touch rough and eager.

She moaned as he touched her, biting back a smile as she sped up, her eyes never leaving his face. She probably should have gone a little easier on him really, gone a little slower, but given how long she’d waited it was impossible to hold back now, and Malcolm certainly didn’t seem to have any complaints. His hands moved from her thighs to her hips, his grip firm but making no attempt to alter her pace in any way.

“Grey,” he murmured, voice low. “Darling.”

It sounded a little like a warning and his hands gripped her harder, pressing into her skin. She didn’t slow down though, didn’t ease up. If it was a warning, well she really didn’t care much how quickly he came, as long as he did. He moved one hand from her hips, wrapped it around her, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her skin, the pounding of her own heart and hearing her breathing ragged and heavy. He wasn’t going to last. Oh he was old enough to have control over himself, but well he hadn’t slept with a woman this eager, this passionate for years.

“Grey,” he said again, the word grunted into her ear as he pressed up into her.

Her hand moved up into his hair, twisting in it as her breathing became even heavier, as she fucked him harder still, clearly trying to send him over the edge. “Go on,” she hissed, shifting just enough to be able to see his face properly. She wanted to watch him, wanted to see his face the moment he came. It was something she’d imagined far, far too many times, she had to see what he really looked like when at that exact moment.

He wanted to hold on, more than anything but _fuck_ it was very nearly impossible, especially when she said that. He pressed up into her again, his eyes closing as his body tightened against her and he came with a grunted ‘fuck’, pushing up into her as far as he could go.

When he opened his eyes again she was still looking at him, smiling at him like he’d just done something amazing.

“Fuck you look good when you come,” she said trying to catch her breath.

Malcolm chuckled and shook his head. “You have the fucking weirdest ideas of what looks good, darling,” he said, leaning in to kiss her again.

 

Malcolm woke up shortly before 5.30am, Grey asleep beside him, snoring lightly with her mouth open. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared his bed with someone like this. He’d had what could be charitably referred to as flings, but never here and they’d never really involved staying the night, they certainly hadn’t involved quite so much confusion or laying there looking at the woman beside him. Christ she was young, absolutely gorgeous, funny and, yeah, okay a bit of a mess psychologically speaking, but he could hardly talk, but for some reason she was in his bed. For some reason she’d travelled across London late at night just to see him and while he was trying to convince himself the night before had been nothing but the product of alcohol and loneliness on her part he wasn’t entirely convinced about that.She’d said too many things, too many incredibly nice things that he really wasn’t sure he believed. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this had been a bad idea though. She looked so young lying there, naked beside him, he’d been her superior for a year, had he somehow taken advantage? Okay so she’d made the first move (although admittedly last night hadn’t even really been the first move, that had happened over a year ago) but did she really know what she was doing? 

Carefully he shifted, trying to extract himself from the arm thrown over his chest. With a disgruntled moan Grey tightened her arm around him and rolled closer to the warmth of his body.

Malcolm stilled instantly, he especially wasn’t used to women trying to keep him in bed, he had no idea how to get out of this situation, or how much he actually wanted to come to think of it.

“Grey,” he said quietly, not entirely sure if she was actually awake or not.

“Mmmm.”

“Mind if I have my body back, darling?”

She opened one eye, and moved her leg across his. “Mmmm.”

“Sorry was that you _do_ mind?”

“It’s Sunday,” she pointed out, curling around him, far too comfortable and tired and in Malcolm Tucker’s bed. Things felt incredibly simple here, just like they had last night, though that may have had something to do with her still being at least half asleep.

“You think I get days off? Really?”

Frowning Grey opened both eyes, looking sidelong at him. “What time is it?”

“Half five.”

“Are you shitting me? It’s half five on a Sunday morning and you’re planning on getting up and working?” Clearly she’d underestimated exactly how dedicated to the job he was, and while she didn’t think she was enough to keep him in bed she felt a little offended he was so eager to leave.

“Aye, well it’s what I normally do.”

“Right, yeah,” she said, removing her limbs from his body. “I’ll be off then,” she said, sitting up and looking round for her clothes, trying to ignore how quickly everything had turned to shit. Oh well five hours naked with Malcolm Tucker was better than no hours naked with him, now she just had to get dressed, get on the tube, go home and try and work out what the fuck she was supposed to do now. Go back to masturbating over the thought of him probably. That was healthy, right? At least she had some actual memories rather than just fantasies now.

Malcolm winced. That had probably come out wrong, and now she was talking about leaving, perhaps he’d just given her the perfect excuse, but she really hadn’t seemed in a rush to leave until he’d started treating this morning just like every other, as if she wasn’t here, in his bed, her clothes strewn across his bedroom floor

“Any idea what happened to my pants,” she asked, getting out of bed to look for them.

There weren’t a lot of times in Malcolm’s life when he considered himself to be an idiot, that thought was mostly reserved for other people, almost all other people in fact, but as he lay there in bed, watching the way Grey searched his room, completely naked and confident about that fact it was the only word that seemed to apply. _Fuck_. He didn’t do apologies, not unless forced by the PM, the word ‘sorry’ tended to stick in his throat, but he knew if he didn’t do something that would be it, she’d leave and he didn’t know how many chances she’d give him, nor did he want to find out.

The leap out of bed wasn’t nearly as graceful as it had been in his head, but Grey trying not to laugh at him was better than the blank look she’d been wearing before. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply, moaning against her lips as she kissed him back just as she had the night before, one hand running over his back. Christ she really did like him, didn’t she? Even like this in the cold light of day after he’d been such an insensitive prick, but in fairness it couldn’t have been a huge surprise, could it?

“This my goodbye?” she asked, breaking the kiss reluctantly.

“More your fancy coming to bed and reminding me what normal people do on Sunday mornings?”

Grey looked at him like he was crazy. “If you’re hoping for normal, Malc, you’re shit out of luck. I do know no one in their right mind’s out of bed at this time though, or in fact awake, unless they’re coming back from a club.” She shook her head and yawned.

“If you want to go back to sleep I can always leave you to it for a while. I really do have a fuck ton of work to do, honestly you wouldn’t believe the level of fuck-ups I’m working with.”

“I think I would, I was at DoSAC for a year.” She leant up and kissed him more gently this time. “Yeah, okay, if you’re one of those fucking weird morning people I’m always hearing about. I mean I _could_ be convinced to stay awake but…I might be a little more active in a few hours.”

They were perfectly innocent words, but the way Grey said them made Malcolm’s cock stir. “What time do you want me to wake you up?”

“As long as you can wait?” 

“You realise there’s every possibility I’ll completely forget about you once I start working, don’t you?” There was no point in lying, not to her, she knew he was a workaholic, didn’t she? It was probably better to just be honest from the start, if that was even what this was.

“Then I guess I’ll have to come and get you.”

 

Five hours later Grey woke up of her own accord, completely alone in Malcolm’s bed. With a groan she dragged herself out of it and went into the living room to find Malcolm hunched over his laptop surrounded by papers, a mug and a cafetiere . Grey stood close to the sofa, completely naked with her hands on her hips waiting a few seconds to see if he’d notice her before she coughed pointedly.

“Forgetting anything?”

“Fuck, Grey!” He looked over at her, eyes wide.

“In one,” she replied with a bit of a smile. She couldn’t be annoyed. He’d warned her and she knew exactly what he was like, she’d seen it first hand more times than she could count, plus she had only just woken up, she needed a bit more time to manage annoyed.

“Just give me fifteen minutes. I’m just in the middle of something, if I stop now I’ll lose where I am and it’ll take me another fucking _hour_ to unravel this fucking mess.”

“Fine. Have you eaten anything?” She looked slightly confused that the words had left her mouth. Had he eaten? Okay so she’d noticed the distinct lack of plate amidst the rest of the organised chaos surrounding him, but what did it have to do with her? Malcolm was a fully grown man, he’d managed to survive this long. Plus what was she going to do? Make him breakfast? She didn’t even make herself breakfast. She generally grabbed a biscuit on her way out of the house.

“No, but I’m fine. Don’t worry about it just…go back to bed. I’ll be in in a while, promise.”

She wanted to protest, she was already doubting he’d be in when he’d said but she’d give him a chance, and if he wasn’t back in bed in a hour she’d get dressed, go home and contemplate the fact she really, really liked a man that would always chose work over shagging her.

Half an hour later the door to Malcolm’s room opened and he entered, pulling his t-shirt off and tossing it aside as he kicked the door shut. There was still work to do, but he wasn’t a complete idiot and he knew Grey wasn’t the type of woman that would just wait around all day for him to have time for her, nor should she have to be. She was better than that.

“You’re late.”

“Aye well you know what traffic’s like this time of day,” he replied, pulling his boxers off before slipping back into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her and rolling her onto her back. “So this gender equality thing you’re always going on about,” he said, looking down at her as one hand explored her body much more confidently than it had the night before. “Think that implies I get to go on top now, don’t you, darling?” 

Grey laughed slightly, stretching out beneath him and tangling her legs with his. “You didn’t enjoy last night?”

“Oh I fucking _loved_ last night,” he admitted, pressing closer, already hardening, thoughts of work having shifted to the back of his mind, replaced by memories of the night before. “I just thought since equality was your thing…”

“I’ll be honest, Malc, I’m not actually all that fussy when it comes to positions,” she leant up, kissed him deeply and pulled him further down with her as she raised her hips to meet his, “I just sort of want you fucking me again.”

“Patience, darling,” he said, his hand moving to her hip, gently guiding her body back down on to the mattress. 

“Patience?” she repeated as if the word was a foreign concept to her.

“I thought you were meant to be reminding me what normal people do on a Sunday morning, isn’t this the sort of thing?” His thumb trailed over her hip bone as he spoke. “I want to be kept in bed,” he admitted quietly. “I want to lose the rest of the morning to you.”

“Malc,” she said, her voice slightly shaky. This wasn’t how she’d expected him to be, not in any of the hundred fantasies she’d created about him, It was strange, hearing words like that coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t protest, it sounded like her idea of heaven - a whole morning spent naked in bed with Malcolm Tucker. Or the next hour, since it was already 11am.

He smiled as he leant in to kiss her neck. She was still here, still here and now completely sober and just as keen as she’d been the night before. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he didn’t have anything to worry about right now apart from making sure she came.

He pulled back to look at her, sliding his hand slowly over the curve of her waist as he gazed down at her laying there in his bed smiling up at him like he was something special. It was ridiculous really if he stopped to properly think about it, she was smart and funny, she didn’t take any of Ollie’s bollocks, even her run ins with Jamie hadn’t phased her, not to mention all the things _he’d_ said to her. She was gorgeous too. He hadn’t really had much of a chance to take everything in the night before. He’d been too shocked and then she’d been too close for him to really get a proper look at her, to really take her in. Now though he could. Now he had nothing else to distract him from the sight of her beneath him, all pale skin and ridges of bones. He hand glided over her rib cage, fingers dancing against each rib beneath her skin. If he hadn’t watched her wolf down takeaways whenever she’d been at Downing Street he might have worried she didn’t eat properly. She wasn’t stick thin though, he remembered his hands on her thighs the night before while she’d fucked him in a way he hadn’t been fucked in over twenty years. They were powerful and muscular, as were her arms. Oh yeah, she was stronger than she looked, strong and forceful and…his cock twitched as his mind ran away with itself, and he moved his hand to her chest. Laid down there was barely anything there, the slightest hint of breast but her nipples were hard, almost as if they were trying to get his attention. Gently he rolled one between his fingers, watching Grey’s face carefully for any negative reaction, trying to work out what she liked, what she wanted, though he suspected she’d have absolutely no problems telling him what that was, especially if she didn’t like something. Slowly he pinched it, increasing the pressure as she let out a hiss of pain and arched her back slightly.

“You want me to stop, Grey?” he asked quietly, licking his lips, suddenly aware he was leaving her other breast out and very much wanting to rectify that.

“No,” she said far too desperately for her own liking. This hadn’t been what she’d had in mind. Him taking control was one thing, but this was torture. How was she supposed to assert her dominance when he had this effect on her?

He smiled a little sadistically at the tone of her voice and pinched her nipple again, harder this time. Again she hissed, but now he knew she liked it it was more obviously a pleasured sound. Dipping his head he took her other nipple into his mouth, sucking against it for a moment before he bit down without warning.

“Fuck!” she cried, as his eyes darted up to see her face, to make sure she was still okay.

Grey smiled, as if she knew what that look meant and slipped her leg over his waist, pulling him a little closer as his fingers and teeth sent near constant jolts of electricity between her legs and it became increasingly difficult to breathe normally. When he stopped, soothing the pain with his tongue, gently lapping against her stinging nipples she had to press her lips together to stop herself from whining in disappointment.

“I take it you’re a bit more comfortable with this whole thing now then. yeah?” she asked with a bit of a laugh. 

Malcolm laughed too, his large hands covering and caressing her breasts. “Aye well I figure if you’re foolish enough to want to be here with me, without any vodka or whiskey in your system I’d be a fucking madman not to take advantage of that fact, wouldn’t I?”

“Well y’know I didn’t like to say that but yeah, a little bit. So…have I been patient enough yet?” Didn’t he have work to be doing? Why was he wasting time doing all this when all she really wanted was to feel the weight of him on top of her while he fucked her? Wasn’t he supposed to be an incredibly busy man?

Malcolm laughed again, slightly mocking as he shook his head and ran his fingers over her nipples, noting how hot they felt against them. “I haven’t even started yet,” he admitted, voice low and slightly threatening. The tone she’d heard dozens of times used against ministers when they’d fucked up so badly shouting wasn’t going to cut it.

 _Oh fuck_.

“I’m gonna make you fucking _beg_ me to fuck you, darling,” he informed her.

Grey moaned at the thought, something that took her completely by surprise. This wasn’t what she thought about at night when she was alone in bed. This wasn’t what did it for her. She’d never been good with delayed gratification, she’d certainly never been good with self control and patience and she’d thought Malcolm would be the same. That he’d come back to bed and fuck her without spending too much time tormenting her first. He had more important things to be doing than her, didn’t he? But now here she was, with him looking at her like he was going to devour her, telling her he was going to make her beg and she was pretty sure she’d never been quite this turned on in her life. Fucking Malcolm Tucker!

“Please don’t.”

Malcolm smiled that same sadistic smile, then dipped his head, kissing his way up her neck gently until his mouth was at her ear. “You get points for the ‘please’ but sorry, darling. I’m afraid I cannot acquiesce to your request.”

Acquiesce? All Grey could think about was the throbbing between her legs and the look on Malcolm’s face and he was using the word ‘acquiesce’? She wasn’t even sure what it meant but she was pretty certain it boiled down to a no. Smug bastard.

“Malcolm.”

He smiled against her skin and bit down very lightly. “Yes, darling?”

“Seriously.”

He pulled away just enough to be able to see her face, so he could actually talk to her properly. “Fine, maybe I don’t need you to beg, but I’m sorry, darling I’m not just going to fuck you. Last night was great and everything but…” he shook his head and trailed off.

“But what?” she asked a little worried. Had she done something wrong? Had he lied earlier when he said he’d loved it? Had she been aggressive? _Too_ aggressive?

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Malc, please.”

“Do you know how much time I spend doing things I enjoy, Grey?” he asked.

“Well I assumed you enjoyed bollocking idiots, so the majority of your life?” she suggested, sitting up slightly. She didn’t like having conversations when she was flat on her back, it just felt sort of wrong.

Malcolm let out a snort of laughter. “It’s a different kind of enjoyment. I mean things I do just for me. Things I _want_ to do. None, absolutely no fucking time at all. And now you’re here, in my fucking bed, all…smooth and soft and naked and fucking….moaning and I don’t want to go and sort out those fucking reports in my living room. I want to be here, in bed with you. I have never had this long to do something I want to, there hasn’t even _been_ anything I’ve wanted to do for this long. I want to take my time. I don’t want to rush it. I want to know what every fucking part of you feels like, what every part of you _tastes_ like. I don’t want to just fuck you and go back to work.”

Grey just looked at him for a moment, trying to work out what to say. It was kind of depressing really, but not surprising. She’d known Malcolm long enough to know he didn’t exactly have any hobbies or free time and he didn’t deserve that. He had such a stressful job he should have something to help him let off steam. “You can have me as long as you want, you know?” she admitted. “You could fuck me right now, and I’d still keep you here. I’ve waited so fucking long for this, Malcolm, if you think I’m letting you out of bed the second you’ve come you’re mistaken.”

“We’ve.”

“Sorry?”

“We’ve. The second _we’ve_ come,” he corrected. “I still owe you one, from last night.” It had all happened a bit too quickly for him to actually have had chance to see to her the night before, plus it had been a while since he’d had sex with anyone, let alone someone so utterly gorgeous and talented in that department.

“I’m not keeping count here.”

“Just as well I am then, isn’t it? Oh and just so you know I don’t mind being in credit,” he admitted, running his hand slowly down her side and up over the leg still around his waist and guiding it back down on to the bed, legs parted slightly beneath him as he moved his hand to the inside of her leg, his fingers dancing idly across her thigh. 

“Malc…please.”

“That’s it, darling. Say it again.”

“Bastard.”

His hand stilled and he smiled patronisingly at her. “What was that?”

“I called you a bastard. Because you’re a bastard.”

“Is this news to you, Grey?” Was he supposed to be something else for her? She’d come here knowing what he was like, she wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t possibly expect him to become someone lovely and caring and gentle for her, could she? If that was what she wanted why the hell would she want him?

“No,” she admitted with a smile. She knew exactly what he was like. Last night, when she’d been in charge and he’d been uncertain and almost shy had clearly lulled her into a false sense of security. Fooled her into thinking Malcolm Tucker would be the sub she’d sometimes imagined him to be, when really he was Malcolm F Tucker, the magnificent bastard that just about everyone in the government and media was frightened of. The Malcolm Tucker she’d fallen a little bit in love with over a year ago. She couldn’t say she was that annoyed.

“Then say it again.”

She wondered what would happen if she flat out refused. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t going to beg. He wouldn’t stop, he wouldn’t get out of bed if she didn’t say please, would he? Not after what he’d said about wanting to take his time with her, about ignoring work so he could do this. Only the thing was while part of her wanted to refuse there was another part that wanted to play along. This was just a game after all. Him testing her, asserting his masculinity, his alpha male credentials after she’d initiated everything last night. It was Malcolm reminding her of who he was, what he was like.

She turned her head, kissing just below his ear. “Please,” she whispered, opening her legs a little more, tilting her hips closer to him.

She’d said it. She’d actually fucking said it! He’d half expected a slap, or at least a glare and he’d have taken either and still done whatever she wanted him to. She even sounded like she meant it. _Jesus_! It was enough to make him moan as he felt himself harden, his cock brushing against her pubic hair and he knew she’d be able to feel him, be able to feel the effect the word was having on him, so it didn’t surprise him all that much when she said it again, her breath warm against his ear. As a reward he moved his hand again, up to the crook at the top of her thigh, as his fingers stroked the sensitive skin there, her hair brushing against the back of them.

“Malc, please,” she said, the irritation clear in her voice.

“You know this is the problem with the youth of today, no fucking patience. They just want everything right fucking now, constant fucking stimulation.” As he spoke he moved his hand inwards, delicately touching between her legs, surprised at just how hot and wet she was already without him even touching her. “Constant, stimulation.” He slid one long, slender finger inside her on the last word, smiling as she moaned desperately.

“What do you say, darling?”

Grey stared at him. Was she supposed to thank him now? Seriously? “Fuck off,” she muttered with as much feeling as she could manage, which was barely any..

Malcolm laughed. He knew he’d been pushing it. He’d been pushing it for a while now, and her reaction was perfect. Oh he wouldn’t have minded a thank you, but ‘fuck off’ was much more appropriate really, and he sort of loved the fact that she’d said it. “That’s my girl,” he said crooking his finger and slowly starting to move it in and out, watching the way her nose wrinkled slightly and her lips parted as she looked at him.

 _That’s my girl_. The words rang in her head. She was supposed to hate things like that. It was patronising and possessive, but the way he said it, the fact her telling him to fuck off got that response, well it changed everything and she just wanted to hear it again. She wanted to say something, she wanted to say a million things. To start a conversation about them, about whether they were actually going to do this, or if he’d just lost himself in the moment, but now really wasn’t the time, not when she was feeling so dizzy and a part of his anatomy was finally inside her. Instead she pressed closer, moving her leg back round his waist as he propped himself up with his free arm to be able to look at her properly again, so he could see her body and her expressions while he attempted to make her come. He wanted to see her, wanted to know what she looked like at the moment of orgasm.

Still he was in no real hurry, not when she looked and felt so incredibly good. not when she seemed unwilling to even blink as she kept her eyes on him as she breathed deeply, the odd little sound of pleasure escaping her lips every so often, sounds he was pretty certain she was trying not to make. He wanted to hear more, of course. The sounds she’d made the night before had been all well and good, but he wanted her to really lose control of herself, he wanted her unable to breathe properly just like she’d done to him.

And so he sped up the movement of his finger. a second joining the first. And _fuck_ she was tight.

“You know you can just close your eyes if you want, don’t you?” he pointed out, surprised by how thick his own voice sounded, his Glaswegian accent a little stronger than usual.

Grey gave him a shaky smile, her leg tightening around his waist as she reached up with her left hand to touch him, his shoulder, his neck, his face and finally tangling in his hair.

“And why the fuck would I wanna do...that,” she said quietly, pausing as her breath caught when his fingers brushed against her g-spot.

“So you can focus on what I’m doing. So you don’t have anything to put you off.”

Did he mean something about himself? Did he honestly still not get it? Fucks sake, the man really was an idiot, wasn’t he? “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, beginning to move her hips with his hand, though she was half waiting for him to stop her, to use his free hand to encourage her to keep still, only he didn’t, thank god.

“I sometimes have trouble keeping my eyes open when I come,” she said, voice now just as shaky as her smile. as her hand at the back of his head applied a little pressure to bring him closer to her. “Wanna make sure I’ve got a good mental picture if I have to close them,” she finished, leaning up to kiss him for only a second.

Perhaps he should have known really, the look on her face seemed like something very close to adoration, or perhaps that was just how she looked in the midst of pleasure.

She exhaled in laughter. “God I’m gonna give you such a fucking ego,” she promised. still watching him as she gave up on even trying to keep any sounds to herself. What was the point? She began to breathe more heavily, her mouth agape as Malcolm adjusted his position to sit beside her, his free hand moving between her legs, his middle finger finding and rubbing against her clit slowly in no time at all.

There was a long, shuddering drawn out sigh from Grey, her hand tightening in his hair and Malcolm knew she was getting close. His fingers sped up, his eyes on her the whole time, the way her lips quirked and her nose twitched, the rise and fall of her chest, and still she was looking at him, so stubborn. He was once again taken by how beautiful she was, how young and he really wanted to tell her, here in this moment, but he couldn’t of course. Wouldn’t. He was Malcolm Tucker, he didn’t tell women they were beautiful, not even women less than half his age currently on the edge of orgasm.

“Go on,” he whispered, “Go on, darling. The sooner you come the sooner I can fuck you.” He smirked at her, all arrogance and a little bit of faux distain. 

She was so close she could feel it, the burning in the pit of her stomach as she looked at him, unwilling to even blink. She hadn’t had time to really savour things the night before. Hadn’t had chance to just take in the sight of him, to really focus on what they were doing, on the fact she was really here with him, no rushing.. And god he was wonderful, the look on his face as he watched her. Her hand curled in his hair as she bit her lip. as she fought to keep her eyes open and locked on him.

“Go on,” he said again, the digit on her clit speeding up, rubbing against her more firmly “close your eyes, darling, let go.”

Her body tensed as she finally gave up, closing her eyes as her muscles pulsed around his fingers, her nails digging into the back of his neck as she began to buck against his fingers, mouth open and breathing ragged as she came around his fingers right in front him, and god she looked good, so out of control, because of him. After a few moments, when it seemed her orgasm was easing he slowed his fingers. carefully removing them from her, still watching her as she opened her eyes, smiling slowly up at him, as she moved her hand from his neck down to his back. Still watching each other he brought his fingers to his lips and licked them clean with a groan.

It was upsetting how incredibly sexy he looked. The way he licked those beautiful, long fingers of his and she was sure he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

“Not bad, darling,”” he said, his head tilted as he looked down at her, almost examining her. He leant in, kissing her slowly, smiling against her lips as her tongue ran over his own, tasting herself. “Now you don’t mind if I spend the next half an hour or so between your thighs, do you?”

Grey hit him half heartedly. “You promised me a shag,” she pointed out. “Don’t make me beg.”

Malcolm laughed, “Some other time then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. Under any other circumstance she probably would have been all too eager to have him where he’d offered, but she just wanted him on top of her, inside her.

“So…” he trailed off, moving so he was straddling her, looking down at her like she was the prey and he the predator. “This better for you?” He moved his hands slowly over every inch of her body, coming to a rest at her hips.

She looked up at him, feeling his weight on top of her, but not how she wanted it, not _where_ she wanted it.

“Almost,” she admitted, sitting up a little. “I’d rather you a bit lower down though. between my legs.” She stopped and shook her head, why was not just saying what she wanted? It was ridiculous. “I want you fucking me, Malc, “ she said. “I want you completely on top of me. Just...fucking hell you’re the most difficult man to shag I’ve ever met!”

 

Malcolm smiled, inching his way down, until the mattress was beneath him rather than her body, kneeling between her legs as he looked down at her, a look of thinly veiled frustration on her face. She was too wonderful like this. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at him like that, with such need, actually he wasn’t sure anyone ever had.

He smiled as he shifted, lowering himself back down on top of her, positioning himself against her but stopping with the tip of his cock against her as he reached up to move her hair away from her face. “Tell me you want me to fuck you again,” he said quietly, his smile all arrogance.

Grey moved her leg, hooking it over his waist, her heel digging into his back as she pulled herself up, propping herself up on her elbows as she tilted her hips a little closer. “You’re _such_ a cunt,” she told him, closing the space between them and kissing him hungrily. She’d let him take control for far too long now, and honestly all this waiting, all these mind games were driving her crazy.

Malcolm moaned against her lips, kissing her back as he gave up on holding back, on making her wait as he thrust into her slowly, his arm snaking around her waist, pulling her closer. The night before had been a blur, everything had happened so quickly, so frantically, but now, _now_ he could really focus on everything, on how good she felt against him. How smooth her skin was, the faintest lingering of her perfume on her skin. He kept his lips against hers as he continued to move, slow and steadily, just enjoying the feeling of her, so hot, and tight against him. He held her against him, feeling the pounding of her heart against his chest. Finally he pulled back, gasping for breath as he looked at her, her gaze unwavering, a smile curving her lips.

“You took your time,” she said, just as breathless as he was, her body moving with his as she reached up, her fingers curling into his hair.

“Good things come to those who wait,” he said, still thrusting into her.

“Arrogant fucker.”

“Sorry, darling, it’s just that there’s this fucking gorgeous lunatic that apparently wants my body, hard not to be, you know?”

Grey laughed, her muscles pulsing around him as she did making Malcolm moan at the sensation as he began to speed up. He’d used all the restraint he’d had already, and now he’d finally given in it was incredibly difficult to hold back.

Her hand tightened in his hair, the free one gripping his shoulder, clinging to him as she matched his pace. her eyes still, _always_ , locked on him. Last night there’d been the cloud of alcohol, of a year’s worth of wanting, but that didn’t apply anymore. She’d had her night with him, fulfilled a hundred fantasies, it was different now. More real. Last night there’d been the possibility of it just being a one night thing, but here they were, in the cold light of day, still wrapped around each other.

They continued to move, their bodies pressed together as their speed increased, their hips meeting as they held on to each other. eyes locked like she was still afraid to blink. Their mouths were open, both of them breathing heavily, as he moved his hand over her body, memorising her through touch, covering every bit of her body, trailing his fingers down her stomach until he stopped between her legs, his middle finger rubbing against her clit while they continued to move together. All he wanted was to make her come again, like he had something to prove, though really he knew he didn’t, knew she wanted him for him, still it didn’t hurt. did it?

Grey’s legs wrapped around him, holding him as close as he was holding her, as their hips bucked desperately together, both of them getting closer, Malcolm’s finger speeding up and pressing more firmly. 

And then her breath hitched, and Malcolm paused for only a moment then restarted his ministrations, watching every little twitch on her face, taking in the way her back arched and her hips pressed impossibly close.

“Malc,” she managed to gasp his name, her fingers digging into his flesh as she came, her eyes closing, and god she was beautiful like this, completely out of control, completely relaxed, and it took him only a few seconds more to come himself, the feeling of her muscles contracting around him more than enough for him.

Grey lay there, staring up at the ceiling as she tried to catch her breath. Last night had been great, but it had been nothing like that. He knew exactly what he was doing which was good to know, not that the sex part was that important to her, or at least it hadn’t been until just now when she’d found out exactly how good he was at it. “Fuck,” she muttered, rolling over to look at him, his chest heaving as he too tried to catch his breath.

“Give me a few hours to recover first, aye?”

“I could probably do with something to help me build up my energy. You got any food here other than maize based snacks?”

Malcolm side eyed her. “Cheeky bitch.”

“Is that a yes or no? Only I’m not sure I have the energy to go out and get food.”

“Never had a real man, darling?” he asked, panting.

She almost mentioned Jamie but thought better of it. The less she thought about that little fuck up the better. Plus he’d been a huge disappointment in bed, unlike Malcolm.

“Well…I don’t think I’ve ever come quite so hard with another human being, I’m normally the one expending the most energy though. You remember last night, right?”

He rolled over to face her. She looked even more amazing now - well fucked and dishevelled., cheeks flushed and blonde hair a mess. “Oh I remember last night,” he confirmed. He was pretty certain he was never going to forget last night as long as he lived.

“So you get that that’s not what this is, yeah?” She leant in to kiss him softly on the lips. “And anything else I could possibly say here’s going to give you an even bigger ego than you’ve already got and no one needs that.”

“So what is it?”

“I haven’t eaten in eighteen hours, and yeah okay the whole mind blowing orgasm thing hasn’t helped.”

“Mind blowing orgasm?” he repeated, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“You were there, weren’t you? This isn’t fucking news to you, is it?”

“You’re doing a fucking shit job at not giving me an ego. Maybe I just assumed you were faking it, both times.”

“I don’t fake orgasms, I don’t see the point.”

Malcolm smiled, shuffling a bit closer and slipping his arm around her back. “Course you don’t.”

“Would you want me to?”

“Fuck no. I’d rather know I’ve definitely made you come than you faking it for my sake. Fuck that.”

“Exactly, and how the fuck are you supposed to know if you’re doing the right thing. It’s just going to lead to a crap sex life. I’d rather just tell you what to do than fake it. If I needed to, obviously.”

“Not too disappointed then?” Malcolm asked with a smirk.

“Fishing for compliments?”

“I’ve got you naked in my bed, darling. What other compliment could I possibly need?”

“Smooth talking bastard.”

“I have my moments.”

“Seriously though, what’s the food situation?”

“I’m sure I can rustle something up, if you ask nicely.”

“You’re really pushing your luck, Malc.”

“I remember when you showed me respect,” he replied, fingers twisting in her hair. “’Yes Malcolm, no Malcolm. Three bags fucking _full_ , Malcolm.”

“That was when you were my boss, although I think you might be misremembering a bit. I never showed you that much respect.”

That much was true, it was one of the reasons he liked her actually. She wasn’t afraid of him. Oh he was sure she respected him, but she wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself. If she’d just been some meek little girl he’d have had no interest in working so closely with her.

“Are you gonna make me breakfast or not?”

Malcolm turned his head to look at the clock on his bedside table. It was almost 2 pm. “More like lunch at this point.”

“Lunch, breakfast, whatever. Are you going to feed me or direct me to food or _something_. You‘re a shit host.”

“So demanding,” he said shaking his head. “And it was you that showed up without so much as a phone call.”

“Yeah, that was terribly rude of me. How ever will you forgive me?” she asked sarcastically.

Reluctantly he moved away, sitting up and looking around for his clothes. “Cheese omelette, do you?” 

“You don’t have to.”

“No, no, you’re right you should keep your energy up. And you know me, I’m an investor in the people, feeding the poor and hungry and all that.”

“Malcolm Tucker, saving the world one person at a time?”

“Something like that,” he agreed getting out of bed as he found and pulled on what were probably his boxers. “Think you can make it as far as the living room?”

“I’ve got like ten minutes, yeah? I might’ve recovered by then.”

“I’ll call you when it’s almost ready, you can let me know.”

 

“Are you doing that on purpose?” Malcolm asked, watching Grey as she entered the kitchen in nothing but a t-shirt.

“Doing what?”

“Wandering about all…semi-naked,” he said, waving his arms in her direction, to indicate her nakedness.

“I can wander about completely naked if you’d prefer,” she offered.

Malcolm considered her offer for a moment. “No, no. You…keep your top on.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Exhibitionist.”

“Anyway, need a hand?” she asked leaning over the counter to watch Malcolm cooking.

“Think I can just about manage. It’s about done anyway, you go sit yourself down.”

“Yes sir,” she said saluting him and turning away, back to the living room.

 

“Mind if I use your shower?” Grey asked as she put down her fork. “I don’t want to be that woman on the tube that smells like shit, well okay, I do cos it’ll stop people sitting next to me, but it’s a slippery slope, yeah? Not showering after getting all hot and sweaty.”

“You trying to imply I have poor hygiene?” he asked, shifting a little to look at her.

“Course not. But if you want to join me…assuming you don’t mind me using your facilities obviously.”

“My facilities?” Malcolm repeated trying not to laugh. “Am I running a fucking hotel now, darling?”

“Malc, can I use your fucking shower or am I gonna have to wash my vag in your sink?”

She was vile, completely vulgar and inappropriate and way too confident with him, but he felt his cock stir at her question and coughed to cover up his reaction. “Well it’d use less water.”

“Malcolm,” she said rolling her eyes at him.

“Aye, you can use my shower, as much as I like the idea of you crouching over my sink with your hands between your legs. I am going to have to request I supervise you though, make sure you don‘t slip or anything. I‘ve seen how unsteady on your feet you are generally without adding water.”

“Pervert,” she said, leaning over to kiss him, her hand cupping his cheek tenderly.

Malcolm moaned slightly against her mouth. “And apparently that does it for you.”

“Well yeah, obviously,” she replied happily with a shrug. “So that shower?”

“Lead the way.”

Malcolm was, indeed, supervising, leaning back against the wall opposite the shower as she stood underneath the head. The power was incredible, not to mention there appeared to be an option other than ‘freezing cold’ and ‘boil the flesh off your bones’ when it came to water temperature. which wasn’t something she was used to.

“Are you really just gonna stand there and watch?” she called over the roar of the water.

“I think I am, yeah,” he confirmed. “It’s nice, very relaxing, like watching rain run down a window pane, only with the added bonus of a fucking gorgeous naked woman.”

Grey turned so she was facing him, though the condensation clinging to the door obscured the full view of her. So she reached up to wipe two strips clear for him, one at her chest, the other between her legs.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Malcolm asked, still not moving, though he was smirking at what she’d just done. The girl was something else, completely bloody mad, but then she’d have to be to want him like this, wouldn’t she?

“Got some kind of belly button fetish I should know about?” she asked.

“I was thinking more your face,” he chuckled.

“Oh so you want tits, vag _and_ face, greedy fucker.” She cleared a large circle around her head though, beaming at him once it was fully revealed.

Her head was dark with the water, clinging to her head and what had remained of her eye make-up was now smeared about her eyes, but god she was fucking stunning. And he was just looking at her.

“You know this is a really awkward position to shower in,” she told him, turning sideways again, reaching for the bottle of shower gel, something that looked a lot like it ‘d been stolen from a hotel room or was perhaps part of a giftset he’d been given for Christmas.

He continued to just watch her, eyes raking over the curve of her arse, and swell of her breasts side on as she started to wash herself with her hands, and then it all became too much and Malcolm pulled off his clothes as quickly as he could to join her.

“You took your time, _again_ ,” she said as his hands replaced her own, sliding over her body tenderly.

“I was enjoying the show.”

“That wasn’t a show,” she told him.

“Looked like it from where I was standing,” he protested.

“I wasn’t touching myself or anything, so trust me, that wasn’t a show.”

Malcolm swallowed hard at the implication. “So...is that something you have, or um, _would_ do?” he asked.

Grey smirked, and turned in his arms to face him.

“Lets just say I’m not adverse to the idea of fingering myself stupid over Skype knowing you’re on the other end of the computer screen,” she admitted.

His cock twitched at the very idea. “Sounds like you’ve given that a bit of thought, darling.”

Grey dipped her head for just a second. “Yeah well, lets _also_ just say I _may_ have spent a little bit of time working out how this might possibly work beyond a series of incredibly fulfilling shags when you’ve got the time to see me.” She shrugged like it was nothing. “I’ve told you, Malc, this wasn’t some spur of the moment impulse thing. I’ve wanted to shag you for nearly two years.”

Malcolm looked down at her. He knew she was for real, what could she possibly hope to achieve if she wasn’t? It just seemed so unlikely, so difficult to get his head round. It wasn’t even his age, it was his personality. He’d spent much of her year’s internship giving her increasingly creative and unflattering nicknames. But he’d bothered to do that, which was more than could be said for the majority of people that worked at DoSAC and weren’t advisers or ministers.

“I’d say I wish you’d mentioned it before, but we both know I’d be lying,” he said.

“As exciting as the whole being fucked over a desk by your boss fantasy is I’m a bit more realistic than that,” she agreed. “Not that I didn’t _think_ about it.”

“Anything you _didn’t_ think about?” he asked.

“Anything you did?” She regretted the question the moment it came out of her mouth. He hadn’t thought about her like that, she knew he hadn’t, even if he’d thought about it for one second she knew he was too professional to let himself think about her like that, even now she wasn’t convinced he was entirely comfortable with the whole thing.

“I thought about the green nail varnish on your big toe,” he laughed. “It was the moment I knew you were gonna be a fucking liability, but an interesting one at least. One that might actually have something about her.”

“Anything else?”

Malcolm laughed. “You want me to tell you all about how I tugged myself stupid after that fucking Christmas party? You want to hear about how I went to bed and wondered what might’ve happened if I’d let you kiss me? If I’d kissed you back? You were barely twenty fucking two, you mad bitch!”

“Did you?” she asked. The question was out there now, and Grey really wasn’t one to back down, she wanted to know. She wanted to know if Malcolm had thought about her the way she thought about him.

“Aye,” he sighed.

Slowly Grey turned around, and leant back against him, just in case her watching him so intently was putting him off, though she couldn’t quite imagine that. “Tell me. Christ Malc, I’ve just told you I’ve thought about wanking over Skype for you. That I’ve thought about you fucking me over your desk, give me something if you mean it.”

Malcolm sighed again, his arms around her and his mouth close to her ear.

“That night, after the Christmas party. I went straight to bed and I imagined you hadn’t been fucking pissed, that I hadn’t been...fucking terrified. I thought about what could’ve happened if I’d asked you in.” He exhaled sharply through his nose “I started imagining fucking you, but it didn’t work, you kept taking over, kept being on top. Jesus in my fucking head you were on top, which just proves how well I know you.”

Grey laughed, wrapping her arms around his and tangling her leg back against his. “Sounds pretty spot on, yeah.”

“But y’know that worked. The thought of you fucking me, that...did it for me.” Grey couldn’t help but smile at how delicately he was putting it, so very unlike him.

“Say it,” she said.

His arms tightened around her and he kissed her neck roughly. “I fucking hate you,” he informed her, waiting for a retort that never came. “Fine”, he huffed. “That got me hard. The thought of you fucking me, _imagining_ you on top of me got me hard. Happy now?”

“Given I’ve spent about the last two years having very similar thoughts and reactions to you? Plus the fact I can feel your erection against my back and I’m naked and wet with you in your flat, yeah, yeah, pretty fucking happy,” she admitted.

Malcolm laughed. She really wasn’t right in the head. Thank fuck.. “So is this a bit more how normal people spend their Sunday mornings?” he asked.

“Well speaking for myself I tend to spend my Sundays praying for death and trying to convince myself I’m never drinking again, But I suppose those sensible people that don’t drink to the point of blacking out, and have someone to do this with, yeah, probably.”

Malcolm smiled, turned his head and pressed his lips against her neck. “I think I like it,” he admitted quietly, close to her ear. “Much more fun than dealing with all those idiots who seem to think they can run a fucking country.”

 

Grey sat on the edge of Malcolm’s bed, watching as he dressed, a towel wrapped round her head and last night’s clothes on her body. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends what it is,” he said as he did up the buttons of his shirt.

“This is awkward-”

“If you need money, Grey I don’t mind giving you money.”

It felt a little bit as if he’d hit her. She felt physically sick that he’d think that, still, but she knew she was overreacting, that he didn’t mean to offend her. “I don’t want your fucking money, Malcolm.”

Her tone was enough to tell him he’d said completely the wrong thing. He really needed to remember people were touchy about money. He remembered offering Sam some money when her boiler had suddenly packed in and he’d never seen her look more offended. He really didn’t understand it - he was paid too much really, so why wouldn’t he offer to help a friend out if he could? It wasn’t as if he had a lot of them to worry about. “So what is it? STI? Boyfriend? Drug problem?”

Grey tried not to smile but didn’t quite manage it. “Yep, all of those things. I would’ve mentioned them last night but I didn’t want to put you off.”

Malcolm made a point of considering this. “No, think I’d still have been willing to shag you. Probably would’ve insisted on a condom but other than that…”

“Romantic.” She reached up to remove the towel from her head, running her hands through her still damp hair to try and neaten it. “Anyway as much as I enjoy this whole _thing_ , I actually did want to ask you something.”

“Sorry, sorry, go on.”

Grey suddenly regretted starting the conversation. She was no good at this, asking questions about what was going on. She’d rather not know, she realised. She’d work it out for herself at some point, wouldn’t she? “Actually you know what it doesn’t matter.”

“Is this one of those tricks women use to see if someone really gives a shit, because if it is I’m sorry Grey but I really don’t have time for that bullshit.”

“No, it’s not. It was just a moment of madness it doesn’t matter. I should get going though, yeah? I‘ve already taken up half your day, and I know you, I bet you‘re itching to get back to work.”

The funny thing was he wasn’t, not really. He was aware of how much work he had to do still, but it could wait. It had already waited while he’d spent the morning and afternoon between her thighs, which he had to admit had been a much more pleasurable use of his time than going through reports. “It’s entirely up to you. You can stay a bit longer if you want, unless you need to leave. Don’t let me keep you.”

Grey winced. She’d been counting on Malcolm wanting the rest of his day back. “I have got a few things I need to do before tomorrow actually,” she admitted.

“That’s fine. Still got that impressive work ethic I see.”

“Not as impressive as yours,” she smirked and looked at him, her mind suddenly full of filth.

“I get that a lot,” he replied, well aware how she was taking her own comment. “No one’s is as impressive as mine, darling.”

“Stop it,” she said moving towards him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, the very picture of innocence.

“Stop making me think about your cock.”

“Hey, it’s hardly my fault what you think about. Anyway you started it.”

“Not the point.”

“Oh is this how it’s going to be? I get the blame for all the fucking _filth_ inside your head?”

“Well you are the cause of almost all of it,” she pointed out, reaching up to touch the hair at his temples. He really was ever so good looking, and here they were alone in his crash pad, having spent the night and half the day in bed together. She was probably going to wake up soon, sexually frustrated and alone.

“There’s something seriously wrong with you, you know?”

“Are you complaining?” she asked.

“Fuck no. I’m fucking delighted you have some weird fetish for objectionable Scots.”

“You’re not objectionable.”

“Not to you, but as we’ve established you’re mentally unwell.”

She wanted to tell him he was perfect, that he was an inspiration and anyone would be lucky to have him, but she was against boosting his ego, and against making herself look like a sentimental twat. She kissed him to keep all those thoughts inside her head. She couldn’t say anything with her tongue in his mouth after all. 

“Right so…I’m gonna leave now,” she said as she pulled away.

“Okay,” Malcolm replied, neither of them moving.

“I really am.”

“Aye. feels like it.” He reached for her hand, and let her lead the way out of his bedroom. towards the door where they lingered.

“You’re not letting go,” Grey pointed out.

“Neither are you.”

As if letting go would actually change anything. She felt pathetic. She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to take full advantage of whatever this was, but she wasn’t going to be that girl. Finally she forced herself to let go.

“I’d walk you out but…”

“Not exactly appropriate,” she said nodding.

“It isn’t me.”

“I know. Middle England, tabloids. I’d cause a scandal. I get it I don’t want to fuck your career. We need you, the party, the fucking country. I get it. Don’t worry. Just…will you call me?” She hated the question, and herself for asking it. It just sounded so lame. She didn’t need him to call her. She could call him, though she knew that wasn’t the best way to get hold of him, he was always too busy to take calls and her calling him at work wasn’t exactly a good idea under the circumstances.

“I’ll call you. Sorry, darling but this is it now. You’re stuck with me.” As soon as the words left his mouth his regretted them. It was dangerously close to needy. What if she was regretting it. What if this was a one time thing? What if she just wanted things to go back to normal? To late night emails and irate texts and not actually seeing each other in person.

“Promise?” she said and just like that all his paranoia left him and he slipped his arm around her.

“Promise,” he replied, kissing her. This was it, as good a goodbye as he could give her, because he couldn’t risk being seen with her, not even here. People talked. People took photos and videos on their fucking smart phones and sold them to tabloids. Everything had to be contained, everything had to be private. He was just lucky that she understood the way these things worked.

“I’ll see you later then, yeah?” she said breaking the kiss, using all the self restraint she had to do so.

“Absolutely.” He squeezed her hand, unwilling to let go. Christ one gorgeous woman wanted to spend time with him and suddenly he was a sentimental old prick.

“I am coming back,” she assured him, squeezing his hand back and pulling away, turning to place her hand on the door handle.

“Tell anyone I’m like this and I’ll have you shot by a sniper.”

“I know, and the same applies. I might not know trained assassins but I’m from Manchester. I know people.”

“I’m sure you do.” He dipped his head again, kissing her one last time, his hand curling in her t-shirt, as she pressed herself against him. “We could do this all day,” he said as he pulled back.

“There are worse things.”

“Get the fuck out of my flat, Grace,” he said, using her full name because he knew how much she hated it.

“Nicely done.” She kissed him once more and let go, pushing him back, afraid someone might see him.

“Thought of a decent cover story if anyone sees you?”

“Sadomasochistic hooker?”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too. See you soon, sweetheart. Promise not to fuck your life up.” And with that she was gone.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [FANMIX & ART: Cheap Whiskey From the Corner Shop](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3776881) by [untldeathtakeme (LikeRebelDiamonds)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeRebelDiamonds/pseuds/untldeathtakeme)




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